


Drown

by fromneptune



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dancer Lance (Voltron), Dancing, Dancing in the Rain, Keith is the best cook, Lance can't do anything but love Keith and dance, M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Swearing, inspired by neon sign amber, its mature but not really, lots of sexual innuendos and sexuality things, night life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8386642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromneptune/pseuds/fromneptune
Summary: Keith works at a club as security. He hasn't really found anything worthwhile or exciting in his life, except for when he looks at a certain bad dancer in the crowds."Hey. Lance. Get up."The person plastered on the sidewalk didn't move. He most likely heard Keith's words, but chose to ignore them. "I'm fine right where I am."Keith was irritated now. "Get up, Lance. Or I'll get you up myself. It can't be that hard."Lance's eyes shot open. Keith stopped,  and looked back at what he said in remorse."Damn, Keith, I didn't know you swung that—""Die on the sidewalk alone, you moron."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, klance. Ruining my life a day at a time. I've always wanted to write a story in a club setting, so this came to be.  
> Enjoy.

He didn't see him every night. Some nights he was there, others he wasn't. When he was there, Keith found his eyes drawn to him. Whether it was because of his bad dancing or his tan skin, he didn't know. He just knew he couldn't  _not_ watch him. There was something to the way he danced; while in its entirety was not that great, it was infectious. He drew people to him naturally.

He was probably around Keith's height (Keith was never close enough to tell) and had dark, caramel-like skin. His short brown hair that hardly covered his eyes made way for their dark color. His ears had a few piercings. He had tattoos that ran down from the nape of his neck to his waist (Keith could tell because he wore loose clothes that flew all over when he danced).

Keith was only eighty percent sure about his features, because the club was always dark. One thing he was sure of, however, was his name.

"You still look at Lance? How has he not noticed it yet?"

Keith turned to his co-worker Shiro, who had a different look from the last time he saw him. "Did you get a haircut?" he asked. Shiro was a tall, built man with white hair and parts of gray. He also wore glasses, even though most of the time he forgot to wear them.

"I did. But that's beside the point. What's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean? Nothing is wrong with me."

Shiro laughed. "You know what I mean. Do you  _like_ him or something?"

Keith, almost too coolly, replied, "No. You do realize he's a man, right?"

"...Okay. Forget I ever said anything." As Shiro turned and left, Keith stood in the corner and continued watching Lance. He only watched him because there was nothing better to do. That was all.

Of course, that was what Keith basically told himself for a while.

Keith grew up as normally as most people; with two parents and an apartment. If anything were different it would be that his father tended to express his anger through his fists.

He couldn't find much to do as a distraction, but he did collect rocks. He would go to the park right before sunset and after he'd get bored on the tire swings, he would search the ground for treasure. His treasure was a creamy peach-colored rock. It was also a shiny silver pebble. His treasures often lied in the places no one seemed to look.

Since, aside from all of this, Keith's childhood was fairly average, he never had any thoughts about relationships other than the norm. His mother was adamant about setting him up, but he felt otherwise, and since their discord hasn't spoken to her.

Keith has actually not once thought Lance was "his type," but now that Shiro put thoughts in his head, he couldn't help but see him as at least somewhat attractive.

Now that the thought entered his mind, he couldn't get rid of it. Now, more than ever, he was glad that Lance hasn't noticed his gaze. Or, at least, if he has and just hasn't said anything. He hoped it was the former.

* * *

That night was an unusually snowy night. The forecast, as Keith recalled, hadn't said anything about snow. It was only November, after all. The buildings that were once highlighted by neon color were now covered with snow. Keith, after his work ended, started to head home. All he had was a black hoodie with the words _DEAD AND ALIVE_ on the front, so he was in a rush. And because of this rush, he almost didn't notice when he stepped on something large—that was in fact alive. He looked down and saw that it was a body. Underneath the white snow lay a body that had little to no movement, and Keith reexamined his assumption that the person was alive.

"Is he dead?" he asked himself. "Did I just step on a dying man?"

Quickly he wiped the snow off the body and little by little revealed a familiar face and dark hair. For a moment, the world stopped. As Keith slowly realized it was Lance, he stopped and got ready to escape, but before he could, Lance grabbed at his ankle.

"Help...me..." he croaked.

Keith quickly caught on. "Are you intoxicated?" Although he hated that these were the first words he's ever said to Lance, he couldn't help it.

"Maybe..."

"If you can't even tell me that, then I can't help you," Keith said, yanking back his ankle. He was only acting like this because Lance threw him of course all of a sudden, just by being drunk and lost. The part that bothered him most was that he wasn't even aware of his surroundings. Or Keith himself.

"Wait...I know I had too much to drink...I was just so angry..." he admitted.

Keith couldn't think of any words to say next. All he could do was stand and look at Lance and let the white fragments from above fall on them. After a while, he reached out his hand. "Can you get up?" Lance looked up at him and took his hand without question.

"Uh...you're that bodyguard, right?"

If Keith wanted to laugh like a normal person, he would have, but instead he frowned. He was more surprised by what Lance said than the fact that he seemed to know him already. "How do I look like a bodyguard?"

"You're wearing a black suit and tie and everything."

"Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm just a security guard. It's different."

Lance smiled, but Keith couldn't tell if it was a genuine smile or a sly one. "So, uh, you have any money you can spare?"

"...Why do you ask?"

Lance looked toward the gray sky. As he exhaled, he released a puff of air. "I'm hungry, and someone stole my wallet."

"You got mugged?"

He nodded. "They took advantage of the drunk guy on the ground and stole his things."

"Oh." Keith mulled on what to do. "Why don't you just go home?"

Lance frowned and said, "Did you hear me? They stole my _wallet_. I have no money or cards."

Keith wanted to keep from biting back, but he couldn't. "If you're asking someone for help, don't you think you should be nicer?"

Lance replied sarcastically, "Now that I think about it, yes, I should."

"If you don't want my help, then I'm leaving." Keith turned to walk away, but Lance grabbed his arm. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to get very far because the snow kept him from moving.

"Wait. I'm just in a bad mood. Sorry."

Keith was reluctant to turn back around. Just with a good eight minutes with this person, he could already tell that he has trouble dealing with him (mainly because their personalities seemed to be complete opposites). He knew Lance was, in a way, good-looking. He knew he was curious about his tattoos and piercings and quite horrible dancing. Still, he didn't know what would happen in the future if he turned around.

He turned around anyway.

Lance continued, "My girlfriend dumped me. Or, I guess you could say we had a fight that ended with her saying 'I can't be with someone who doesn't even know my last name.' Then I drank, and ended up in the snow and got mugged. So yeah, I'm going to be a little rude."

Keith frowned and started walking. Lance followed. "You know that's your fault, though, right? How do you not know your girlfriend's last name?"

"She never told me! What was I supposed to do? It wasn't like I could randomly say, 'Oh, by the way, I don't even know your full name'!"

"Better late than never."

Lance scoffed. "Great pep talk."

When they stopped walking, they were at the front steps of Keith's apartment. Lance was confused. "You brought me to your house? Wait...don't tell me...it all adds up! You were after my body all along, weren't you?!" he accused.

Keith quickly clasped Lance's lips shut as he regretted bringing him. "My neighbors will hear you!" he whispered. "They're old and insane and they  _will_ think I'm gay!" He left out the fact that they already did.

"Then why bring me here? We just met."

"It's not like you're a stranger. I know who you are. Besides, I can make food that's ten times better than whatever I could buy you."

"Basically, you're broke."

Keith felt a dagger to his chest. "Yeah, but still. You'll see."

The inside of Keith's home was lined with burgundy walls and wood flooring. It was dimly lit and smelled of oak. The living room was to the right and the kitchen to the left. He had one large couch facing the TV. Down the hall was a bathroom and a single bedroom.

It didn't take long for Keith to make a dish. To Lance, it looked like magic in a way, as he watched him, as he watched his arms glide through the air.

Keith could feel Lance's eyes on him, and he almost couldn't concentrate. When he finished, he saw the look on Lance's face change. The change, a smile, nearly made him smile as well.

Lance took no time in eating. He first took a small bite, which lead to him devouring everything.

"So you cook?" he asked when he stopped to take a breath of air.

"How else would I survive?" Keith responded.

Lance's eyes narrowed. "Smart ass."

"If I'm being honest, though, my father taught me. He was a chef. It was the only good thing he left me." Keith only regretted saying this until he saw Lance's confused reaction, as if a father who could cook this well couldn't actually be a bad father.

However, neither of them said what they were thinking.

Keith found it the right time to change the subject and ask about Lance instead. He started with the details that intrigued him the most. "So, are you trying to be punk or something? What's with the tattoos and piercings?"

"Nothing, really. I got them on a dare in college," answered Lance. He pointed to the ring in his nose. In his ears, there were four on his right and two on his left. "I didn't really want them, but my friend Pidge dared me because I was being annoying to her."

Then, he lifted up his shirt and revealed a fire-like tattoo on his side and a lion's head on his back. Keith barely saw these because he was distracted by the ever so strange sight of Lance's bare skin. "The fire one I wanted, but the lion was a dare. It took forever and hurt like hell." When he noticed Keith was looking elsewhere, he said, "Hey. Are you paying attention? You asked me about this."

Keith snapped back to reality. "Hm? Yeah, I got it. They're cool."

Suddenly, they heard a phone ringing. Keith cringed at hearing "Kung Fu Fighting" as the ringtone. It was Lance's cellphone. He held up a finger to Keith and answered the call, slowly turning pale. Keith could almost hear the shouting from the other line. _"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"_ it shouted.

"Now, now, Coran. I know there was practice today, but I was starving and I got mugged so I'm with a friend." Keith flinched at the word "friend."

_"You basically skipped class again! You know you can hardly dance, so I don't know why you aren't taking this more seriously."_

"I will, I will. Don't worry."

After that, there was about ten more minutes of rambling and then another seven for talking about future plans. Keith didn't hear it, but that's what he assumed. He saw the utter irony in that Lance was a dancer who couldn't dance.

When the call was over, Lance sighed for a few minutes. He looked at Keith. "He doesn't really like me..."

Keith replied, "I can tell."

After that, Lance finished eating and Keith saw him out. "I guess I'll see you around," said Lance. "Thanks."

In one way or another, Keith was not as sarcastic and grumpy as usual. Instead of fake-smiling and shutting the door, he said, "Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This chapter feels long to me. Lance and Keith inch closer through texting and running for their lives and having fun in the rain.

For some reason not yet known to him, Keith refused to exchange numbers with Lance. The latter had asked him multiple times on multiple occasions, but to no avail did Keith accept. As he thought about the idea, there was a foreboding lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow.

Eventually, he gave in to the way Lance's eyes looked when he asked him, but his premonitions were spot on. Lance sent him text messages all the time. They were about small, silly things, like how he never heard his alarms in the morning, and if he'd earned some money on a scratch-off.

Those types of messages continued for weeks, until Keith read this particular message one Saturday afternoon.

It read: _I think my neighbor is a drug dealer_ **1:02 pm**

Keith replied back almost immediately: _What do you mean?_ **1:03 pm**

Lance called him. _“She's a strange girl. Never talks to anyone and leaves for weeks at a time. Sometimes months. She's gotta be one of them.”_

“How does that prove she's a drug dealer? I know you're not the sharpest tool in the shed, Lance, but...”

_“Oh, shut up. I didn't say it proved anything. That's why I want us to find evidence.”_

“Do you mean breaking into her house?”

Without hesitation, he replied, _“Exactly.”_

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

_“Nothing.”_

“Count me out, Lance. I don't want to commit a crime with an idiot.”

_“It'll be fun, Keith.”_

“How so?”

 _“We'll be together.”_ It fell silent, and Lance was regretting every moment of everything.

After a while, Keith replied, “Sure. Why not? Let's become criminals.”

* * *

They met at Lance's home, which was a lot more disoriented than Keith's. Nothing seemed to be cleaned or organized, but Keith figured that was how Lance knew where his things were. His walls and furniture had a nauseating amount of blue.

Over beer, they came up with a plan. “Wait. Why are we doing this drunk?” Lance thought aloud, though the drinks were his suggestion.

“It's called being inebriated. I don't know about you, but I'm not drunk.” Keith got up to use the bathroom. He turned his head to the wall and all of the alcohol disappeared from his system. There was a picture hanging on the wall. It was a large, blown-up photograph of Lance dancing. He was in the middle of a pose, ballet-like, alone on a dark stage with only a thread of light shining from above. He was wearing a black leotard and seemed a few years younger.

In that picture, Keith felt time had stopped. He felt everything and nothing in that one moment. It sucked him in, crushed his lungs, and knifed his heart. He felt like he was there; as if he saw the crowd staring at him in awe, as if he were one of those people.

Suddenly, the questions hit him: Just who is Lance? Who said he couldn't dance?

Afterwards, through the conveniently opened window, they snuck into his neighbor's home. It was eerily silent and dark, to Keith's suspicion, as if she knew they were coming. Lance looked through her kitchen and Keith followed, though he didn't do anything. The neighbor's fridge was unusually empty to Keith's dismay (as someone who liked to cook, any empty fridge bothered him). The only things inside were water bottles, lemons, and a container of half-eaten chicken salad.

“See? This is suspicious,” Lance said. “And nothing here looks like it's been used.”

“It's sad, not suspicious,” Keith corrected. “Besides...” The house seemed familiar to him. It felt like he'd been there before, and quite often. He found a shelf with an album resting on it. He opened it and saw himself in the night club--his arm wrapped over the shoulder of a girl. She was dark-skinned and tall, with long, light silver hair. “Allura...” he said to himself.

Silently, he laughed. “Lance. She's not a drug dealer. In fact, she's kind of the opposite? She would be insulted if I told her that's what you thought.”

“What? You know her?”

“She's a friend from college. She works as CIA.”

Lance's mouth dropped. “The ones in the movies?”

“Yeah, I guess. But she mainly does undercover operations.”

“You'd think she'd have better security since she works for the government. But that's cool. I should join the CIA. What am I doing being a dancer?”

Keith felt somewhat irritated at this, especially since he'd just seen a picture of him dancing that stole his speech. “Did something happen to you?” he asked. He'd meant to save this question for later, but it came out on its own.

Lance didn't understand. How could he, with just five words? “What do you mean?”

This was Keith's chance to take it back. “Never mind. I don't know. We should get out of here, Allura could return any moment now.”

* * *

The text message after that wasn't what Keith thought it would be. It wasn't about another ridiculous endeavor, or about what happened a few days ago at Allura's home. It was surprisingly simple:

 **Lance:** _So I just found a stray doggg_ _  
What should its name be??_ **8:08 pm**

 **Me:** _Why name it at all_ **8:13 pm**

 **Lance:** _Because it's mine now...what about Buffy?_ **8:15 pm**

 **Me:** _The vampire slayer? Just stop_ **8:15 pm**

 **Lance:** _OK, its fur is a mixture of black and grey and it has blue eyes, so what about Blue?_ **8:17 pm**

 **Me:** _There's something better_ _  
How about Mercury?_ **8:20 pm**

 **Lance:** _..._ **8:21 pm**

 **Me:** _Why the dots_ **8:21 pm**

 **Lance:** _YOU'RE A FUCKING GENIUS, YOU BASTARD_ **8:22 pm**

 **Me:** _Ok?? You're welcome??_ **8:22 pm**

It was a strange night for Keith.

* * *

The next night, at the club, Keith had an early shift. When he worked at this time, Lance hadn't arrived yet. He still didn't see him as his shift ended. He felt stupid, trying to see him again.

As he walked, he stopped upon seeing a tan-skinned man rolling on the ground, hiccupping. He knew it was Lance; this time he wasn't buried in snow.

“Hey. Lance. Get up.”

The person plastered on the sidewalk didn't move. He most likely heard Keith's words, but chose to ignore them. “I'm fine right where I am.”

Keith was irritated now. “Get up, Lance. Or I'll get you up myself. It can't be that hard.”

Lance's eyes shot open. Keith stopped, and looked back at what he said in remorse. “Damn, Keith, I didn't know you swung that—”

“Die on the sidewalk alone, you moron.”

Keith started to walk off, but Lance stopped him by grabbing his leg. “Someone is after my life,” he strained.

“Oh, you mean me in about two seconds if you don't let go of my leg?”

He immediately released his hand since he was aware of Keith's strength. One night, he'd seen him apprehend a drunk who was bothering some women. If Lance had only seen his face and not his outfit or headset mic, he wouldn't have guessed Keith was security. He instead looked like he would be the type of person on the receiving end in that situation.

However, a few minutes after Keith kicked the drunk out, he stood underneath a red light. Lance noticed a brightness to his dim eyes and a tidiness in his untidy hair. He wasn't smiling, but Lance was. It was the first time Lance laid eyes on Keith, and it was a good night.

As he was reminiscing, Keith had already started dragging him along the sidewalk. “So who's after your life?”

“Remember that girl who broke up with me?”

“Because you didn't know her last name? Of course I remember that.”

“Okay, so she has a new boyfriend, apparently. He came in the bar and it was obvious he was trying to start a fight with me. So I ran away, but I was too drunk to get far enough.”

Keith suddenly heard shouting from the distance. “I think that's him. He's pretty close, we need to run. Now.”

“Run? What are you saying? Aren't you a bodyguard? Can't you fight him?”

“I'm a security guard, Lance. For the last time.”

“Wait. I just remembered, I have a bike.”

“How could you forget such an important thing? No more alcohol for you.”

“Whatever, _Mom_. It's across the street. Let's go, before he catches up to us and kicks our asses.”

“ _Your_ ass. Not mine.”

When they reached Lance's bike, Keith was suddenly terrified (it took a lot to get him even surprised). The bike was discolored and rusty, some of its parts had been joined together with _Krazy Glue_.

“Lance, if you put us on that rusty bike, I'm ninety-nine percent sure we're going to die,” he said. “And not by your ex's vindictive boyfriend.”

“Take a chance, Keith. Go crazy. You'll never find the joy in living that way.”

Keith didn't respond, but he got on the bike anyway. He didn't want to end up fighting someone he didn't even know. The bike was made for one person but currently there were two, so to hold on he wrapped his arms around Lance's waist. It wasn't as weird as he'd thought it would be—truthfully, it wasn't weird at all.

Keith, for Lance's sake, ignored the fact that it was clearly difficult for him to ride for two people. Somewhere along the way, the bike started to give out. They stopped moving and the vindictive boyfriend was catching up. Lance, whether driven by fear or his drunkenness, pedaled the bike even harder. He was tired and in pain, but he still went on. He screamed to the night sky, as if to release his pain and frustration. Keith couldn't tell if he was resilient or just stupid.

The entire time, he thought of two things: Lance's back, and the craziness of a person who will travel miles just to beat you up.

* * *

“Boyfriends are insane," Keith said to Lance in a restaurant they took refuge in.

“I know,” was Lance's unexpected response.

Keith just thought he'd worded it strangely until he asked, “You had one?”

“Yeah,” he answered, frowning. “I'm bi. Did I not tell you that already?”

“No...”

“It's not much of a shock, is it?”

Keith thought about it. “Not really, actually. You give off that vibe.”

Lance leered at him. “You notice my vibe?”

Keith edged away from him. “It's not a big deal.”

“Okay, okay. But I think it's cute.”

He wanted to break Lance's arms in that moment, but he didn't. He instead kicked his leg underneath the table. He winced in pain. “I can't believe you would say that sort of thing in public. Or at all,” said Keith.

Lance simply smiled and drank the glass of water in front of him; Keith was serious when he’d said “no more alcohol.” “So, ask away,” Lance later said, without any context as to what he was referring to.

Keith still seemed to understand. “You knew I was curious?”

“Yeah. It’s already been a couple of months since we met. I can be pretty perceptive.”

“Really? It’s felt like more. You’re a tiring person.”

Lance cleared his throat. “ _Anyway_ , about my ex. We met in that night club, actually. But before you started working there. He was this tall, toned guy who always had everyone’s attention, meanwhile I was the scrawny one in the corner who did ballet because he thought it was sexy. We met when I picked up his lighter for him one night. He was always really silly.”

“Then how did you break up?” Keith tried to sound as if he were unfazed, but he couldn’t tell if it was working. He knew what he was feeling, that it was some form of irritation, and he would tell you why he was feeling this way if he knew.

“It was his parents. They found out and condemned him—and me. Eventually, their disapproval got to us, and instead of making us stronger, it tore us apart. Basically, our relationship had no future.” As he spoke, Keith could tell Lance was thinking about it and brooding over it, and that killed him. He was far from being himself. Lance was affecting him. Yes, Lance, the guy with dark skin and dark hair and piercings, who'd been scarfing down a few burgers for the past two minutes.

 _This guy?_ Keith thought. He sighed.

* * *

**Lance:** _Should I get pizza or chimichangas for dinner?_ **5:32 pm**

 **Me:** _Neither_ **5:35 pm**

 **Lance:** _Why_ **5:35 pm**

 **Me:** _You're coming to my place to eat dinner_ **5:36 pm**

 **Lance:** _Why_ **5:37 pm**

 **Me:** _Why not?_ **5:37 pm**

The real reason for this was that he'd decided to make a dish for his mother in order to make up with her, but he had to test it out on someone first. That someone was Lance, who already liked his cooking.

When he came over, he was wearing a blue shirt and sweats, as if he'd planned to sleep there. The first thing he said was, “Can I see your room first? The last time I was here, I was only in the living room.”

“My room? You sure? It's a mess,” Keith lied.

“I doubt that. You and I are opposites.”

So Lance followed Keith to his room. It was, as he'd predicted, much neater than his, and cleaner, too. It even smelled like strawberries. “A guy's room that smells like strawberries. There's a first for everything.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The only thing that wasn't perfect was the unmade bed. It drew Lance to it by being the most comfortable looking bed he'd ever seen. No wonder Keith had such good skin. He slept so well. _Wait. Good skin? What am I thinking? I know I like guys, but…_

Keith interrupted his thoughts. “Lance? Are you going to sit on my bed or just stand there lusting for it?”

“You love to wisecrack, don't you?”

He shrugged. Lance tried not to think too hard about it, but he couldn't help it when he saw a small plush dog on his desk. There were also some pastel-colored pens and notebooks that seemed to be full. He wondered if Keith liked to write. He wondered a lot of things: if he liked to play basketball, if red really was his favorite color (if it was true, they were going to have some problems), if he had any siblings…

“Keith,” he said. “You should go cook now.”

With a nod, he left Lance to his own devices. As soon as he was alone in the room, he snooped around to possibly extract some information. So far, he did find that Keith loved red because most of his shirts had some of that color. He also had many old Nintendo games. He had a few vinyl records and comic books. On top of his dresser, there was a framed picture of him and a tall woman who looked like a more feminine version of him.

Just then, Keith returned. “That’s my mother,” he said. “People always said we looked alike.”

“Are you close?”

“Yeah. I mean, we _were_ , until she started trying to set me up with girls.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Do you not like girls?”

“No, well, I don’t know. I _do_ know that I didn’t like the ones she set me up with.” For Keith, this was probably the most difficult subject. He didn't dislike girls, he just felt he would like them as friends more than lovers. Like Allura.

When he said all this to Lance, he didn't bat an eye. He wasn't even sure he was listening (he was, he was just nervous on the inside).

The truth was, there was someone Keith found attractive. Someone he could say he was interested in. And he was sitting right in front of him.

“Well, make up with her fast,” Lance said. “Mothers are important.”

“What about yours?”

“She's gone,” Lance said quickly. “She died in a car accident when I was thirteen. I was in dance practice at the time. That, is why I have a bike instead of a car.”

Keith's first instinct was to apologize, to say, “I'm sorry for your loss,” but then he thought it would only make Lance upset. Instead he took his hand and held it tightly. It was out of character for both of them, for Lance to talk about his mother's death and for Keith to simply comfort him.

But neither of them moved away.

It was then that Lance said, “Let's go.”

“Where? The food isn't done yet.”

“It will be when we get back. Let's go outside. I want to show you something.”

Outside, it was empty. The streets were quiet and the sky was the color of navy blue. They were alone in the street. Lance, still holding onto Keith's hand, set his other hand on Keith's shoulder. There was a song playing from a neighbor's home that was an Elvis Presley song (Lance had a thing for Elvis), “Love Me Tender.”

“Don't tell me you want to dance.”

“I'm not as bad as you think I am. I just have to be in the right moment.”

“You're never in the right moment at the club? Or at work?”

“I don't know. After my mother died, it's been different.”

Keith paused. He looked into Lance's dark eyes, searching for a shred of light. Or an answer. “Are you in the right moment now?”

Lance didn't respond. He started to move back and forth, prompting Keith to follow his steps. Sooner or later, their movements were in sync. It was cold outside, but they only felt the heat of their palms. Keith hadn't danced since he was ten years old, and that time only happened because his mother made him dance with her, and yet he felt so comfortable doing it now. He felt lost in another world. Maybe even lost in Lance.

Suddenly, it started to rain. In seconds it went from a drizzle to a downpour. They rushed inside. Lance still didn't let go of Keith's hand.

The rain made Keith’s hair sick to his face. He wanted them to stay in the rain so he could drown himself in it. So he wouldn't breathe. He had to test if these resilient feelings would still be there, even on the verge of death.

He turned to Lance and released his hand from his grip.

“So you really can dance, huh? I guess that was the right moment.” He’d intended to say the words lightly, but his voice sounded heavy as he said them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter: mixed feelings lead to very similar feelings, and realizing this while lost in the middle of nowhere (Queens, actually-they live in NYC). Sorry for the wait (again, and it was longer this time), but thanks for reading! Enjoy.  
> Also, I would have went further with the scene in the end but I wanted to be tease.  
> Season 2 go!!

It was obvious to anyone who glanced. It was clear that something had changed between them. Between themselves, however, it wasn’t as obvious.

The only thing Keith knew was that he seemed to have a growing crush on Lance. He didn't know (or rather, couldn't tell) that some of the conversations they'd have after that day were just different ways of flirting.

Lance was only at Keith's place today to eat his food; this sort of thing became routine for them. “So what was your first impression of me?” Lance asked him.

This wasn't a difficult question to answer, Keith just didn't want to. He was almost positive that Lance was going to be upset. “I thought you were a gang member.”

Just as he'd expected, Lance's expression slowly changed. “Whaaat?”

“Are you surprised? Look at yourself.”

“Well, I thought you were mafia. So I guess it's even.”

Keith was suddenly irritated himself. "How do I look like mafia?”

“It's the suit and the hair and the expression you always make. Plus, you always wear these large rings.” Lance pointed to Keith's fingers.

“These were my father's. I don't really know why I wear them, since he wasn't much of a father to me,” Keith explained.

“Oh. Right.” Lance looked down at the floor.

“Don't be like that. It's gross.”

“Hah? Fine, then I won't care at all.”

“...I was joking, Lance. I actually appreciate it.”

Lance smiled his signature smile, and Keith immediately felt like a horrible person who thought indecently about his friend. Something in his bright smile alone affected him.

* * *

Lance went early one morning with Keith to the club. He'd been nagging Keith before about wanting to see other areas of the club that were only available to employees. Keith wouldn't have been able to pull any strings if not for Shiro.

“Shiro? Who's that?”

“A friend. He's a bartender here.” Keith first led Lance to behind the bar counter. "You're a regular here and you didn't know him?”

Lance couldn't say that the only person whose face he remembered was Keith's. He distracted himself by looking at the different liquors and spirits. 

Afterwards, they went to the break room. There were leather seats, a pool table, a television and vending machines.

“There's even a game console? What the hell is this place? I could live here!” Lance exclaimed.

“One of my co-workers brought that here." Keith glanced at Lance's face and continued, "You look like you want to play. There's  _Mortal Kombat_ , I think.”

So they played one round, which led to two, which led to five, then ten, then for hours. They were so engrossed in the competition of playing that they momentarily forgot their budding feelings for one another and shouted, "Screw you!”

“Yeah? Well, screw you too!" Under normal circumstances, in a joking manner, Lance would have said instead, "Yeah? Well, I'd love to screw you.”

When they realized they couldn't stop, they forced themselves to let go because there was one more thing Keith wanted Lance to see.

It was a balcony on the top floor. Its bars were a grayish color that brought out the colors that mashed at very beginning of sunsets.

“Have you seen anything more beautiful?” Keith asked Lance.

“No,” he first replied, but then he stole a glance at Keith. "Well, maybe.” He instantly wanted to jump off that balcony because of how cliché he was being.

They went back inside, ate, had a few (too many) drinks and decided to take a nap in the break room. Keith set his alarm for nine P.M., but the one to wake the two wasn't the alarm—it was Shiro.

“What are you two lovebirds doing, cuddling like that?”

The statement made them flail about and check themselves. "I didn't do anything weird, did I?” they asked at the same time.

“Weird? No. I came here to read, so the most I saw was you kicking each other and yelling each other's names. Anyway, get to work, Keith. It's your shift.”

Keith jumped up, fixed his hair and rushed outside. That left Lance alone with Shiro, whose name he didn’t even know until today. Shiro didn’t try to hide staring at Lance, so the later asked him, “Is there something on my face?”

“Ah, no. It’s just...do you _like_ him? Keith, I mean.”

Lance wondered what could have given Shiro that idea, even though it wasn’t far off. “So what if I did?”

Shiro paused, most likely because that wasn’t the answer he was expecting. He’d probably intended to go console Keith later when this all went downhill. He decided to choose his words carefully. “No, nothing. I hope it all works out.”

While Keith stood by the entrance, he couldn’t stop thinking about how he must’ve done something to Lance when they were sleeping earlier. Allura could testify that he tended to either sleepwalk, sleep talk, or kick his legs around. He’d hit her in the face multiple times before whenever she used to sleep over. But then she grew up faster than he did (she was older as well) and entered the CIA to investigate her father’s death.

Needless to say, this is why he thought he was hallucinating when he heard her voice. “Why do you always look so angry?”

Keith turned and saw his old friend, who was wearing a purple dress. Her silver hair glistened, as usual. “Allura? Is that really you?”

She joked, “Is there another dark-skinned girl with silver hair whom I should know about?”

“Of course not. Not a girl, anyway...”

“Wait, I was trying to be funny. Don’t tell me there really is...you like someone? _You?”_

“I guess so. He should be around here somewhere...”

“ _He?_ What the hell did I miss?”

“Well, for starters, we broke into your house. He’s your neighbor.”

“The dark guy with the piercings? Hold on. Why were you in my house?”

Keith hesitated to answer this because he didn’t want to admit he did it for such a stupid reason. He said, “Lance wanted to…he was suspicious and thought you were a drug dealer.”

For the first time in years, Allura cackled. She laughed so hard that she ended up snorting (the only blackmail Keith had on her).

At that same time, Lance had walked over to them, and he looked somewhat irritated. “What are you doing here with him?” he asked Allura.

“I told you I know her, didn’t I?” Keith said.

Allura smiled, “What’s wrong with a little flirting?”

“Don’t flirt with someone else’s _boyfriend_ ,” Lance said, and in that moment, Keith was completely lost.

“Yours?” Allura didn’t believe him. Neither did Keith himself.

So as to prove whatever point he was trying to make, he pulled Keith by the tie and locked their lips. The moment was too quick to capture, but Keith was sure he felt _Lance’s_ lips on _his._ If not, then he really was hallucinating. His face alone said: “What the hell was that about?”

Allura was surprised enough to drop her act. “You got me. I was just messing with you,” she said to Lance, “There was no need to kiss him.”

When Keith realized that he was in fact imagining the entire scene, and that Lance had been dancing in the crowd this whole time, he immediately made sure someone didn’t spike his Arizona. “Allura,” he said to her, “This is bad. I just imagined he came over and kissed me.”

“You think that’s bad?” she replied, “Tell me when you start to dream having sex with him.”

* * *

They didn't intend to go to the park at two in the morning. Lance just waited for Keith's shift to be over before leaving, and somehow their legs brought them to a park. They sat on the grass and let the breeze push back their hair.

In a low, quiet tone, Lance asked, “Have you ever felt happy one day, and then the next, the most important person to you is gone and you feel like a completely different person?”

Keith didn't expect this sudden vulnerability from him. "I've never felt that. The only thing I've felt was having a rock as my best friend because my father was an abusive asshole. This is the park I went to whenever I escaped.”

“Oh, so that's why you carry rocks in your pocket.”

“But, Lance, why don't you dance like you used to? You'd have to come up with a good answer to convince me after that time when it rained." _The time I realized just how bad I have it for you._

“I just can't,” he said, as he looked to the ground. “It's all different.”

“Because your mom is gone? What are you saying? Is that dance we had a lie, then?”

“Of course not, you idiot!” Lance exclaimed.

In that moment, Keith lost all reason. His body ignored his mind. He discarded everything he'd worried about before, and accepted everything he didn’t want to believe. He didn't want to believe that he was falling for a man, but he was, he did, and this was the result. He held Lance's face in his hands and sloppily kissed him. He figured that instead of fantasizing about Lance kissing him, he might as well do it himself.

“Dance for me, then,” he declared. “Dance for your mother, even if she isn't there. Dance for yourself.”

Lance, expectedly, was speechless. In a few seconds, Keith changed everything. He pulled away from Lance, since he was realizing the magnitude of what he just did, but Lance stopped him. He pulled Keith closer and returned the kiss, encompassing his lips and his breath. They shared everything underneath the navy blue sky.

* * *

Keith didn't want to call his mother, but after he'd told Lance off, he felt that he had to take care of his problems as well.

He could tell she was surprised to hear his voice. _"You're calling me?”_

“Well, it’s about time.”

_“That it is.”_

“Mom, I…like someone.”

Keith heard the excitement in her voice, but was worried because he was about to disappoint her. _“Are you finally considering getting a girlfriend?”_

“Well...the thing is, _she’s_ a _he_.”

His mother paused for a long time before responding. The silence was painful. _“Do you like men?”_ she finally asked.

“I think so. It’s just, something about them—about Lance that makes me…”

_“Feel different?”_

“Yeah. He reminds me that I’m alive.”

_“Well, Keith. I thought something was up, but I didn’t think that was it.”_

“I know. I’m sorry. I know you wanted a grandchild.”

 _“I did, but more than that, I’d say I want your happiness. Besides, you_ _can always adopt.”_

“Jesus, Mom. I’m not even thirty yet.”

 _“Oh. Right.”_ She laughed, then Keith laughed, and he was glad she seemed to be okay.

A while afterwards, Keith texted Lance about going to a bar later. However, the reply was different from what he expected: _Sorry, I'll have to pass. I have plans_ **5:30 pm**

Of course, Keith wanted to know what exactly those plans were, but he figured it must have been important if Lance didn't tell him. And yet, he wasn't just going to stay at home either. He decided to stakeout at Lance's place and follow him to wherever he was going. When he finally saw him leave his apartment, he was walking with a girl.

Keith's initial reaction involved pain in his chest, then slight jealousy, then curiosity. The girl was tall, with fair skin and light eyes. She had short curly hair that reached her shoulders.

He followed them to the train station and got off at the stop they did. They went to a Macy's downtown and looked through the men's floor. The girl had Lance try on some suits and pants, and after a while Keith felt disheartened.

He felt the guilt from following him, but when he decided to go back home, be couldn't. He tried to go back the reverse way he came, but the train lines were confusing (he often took buses) and he ended up somewhere in Queens. "How the hell did I get here?" he asked himself.

Keith didn't want to call Lance because he couldn't bear to tell him what he did that landed him to Queens in the first place. How was he supposed to say, "I was following you, but I got lost. Sorry"? Instead, he called Allura and asked her to pick him up.

As it grew dark, on a bench Keith wondered if what happened wasn't so bad after all. He looked up and saw stars, something he wasn't able to see every day.

“There you are,” a voice then said, the owner of that voice standing in front of him. “Your friend contacted me.”

“Lance...” was all that could come out of Keith's mouth.

“How did you get out here?”

“No. You're going to hate me.”

Lance frowned. “I think that's impossible, but try me.”

“...I followed you and your date, but when I gave up, I got on the wrong trains.”

As he laughed and held his stomach, Keith hardly felt reassured. “What’s so funny?”

“I think that sold it for me. That girl you saw is my sister. We went out to buy this for you.” Lance held out a slim box, and inside was a red tie scattered with white roses. “It's so you don't wear all black all the time.”

This time, Keith was speechless. He'd completely misunderstood Lance getting him a present. _But what did he mean by “that sold it for me”?_

“I thought you'd be happy,” Lance said as he sat down beside him. “Why are you frowning?”

“Aren't I always?” Keith was frowning because he didn't know what other expression to make. Even as it was something simple like a tie, no one aside from his mother has ever done something like this for him. “I just...I think I love you,” he said. Surprisingly, the words weren’t that difficult to say, but that was because Keith wasn’t being controlled by his thoughts. He checked to see if his Arizona was spiked this time. It still wasn’t.

Lance leaned over and kissed him then.  That was their third kiss, and each time felt like the first. As they kissed, they both got carried away with the mood, and Keith's shirt somehow became unbuttoned.

“Wait, wait, wait. We're outside, you idiot.”

“Oh. I forgot,” Lance said, and clicked his teeth. The mood carried him away, but at that time he realized that he wouldn't have gone through with it regardless. He realized this because he was afraid of seeing Keith's nakedness. He was afraid of Keith and the way he was making him feel, but most of all, he was afraid of himself.

 

Since all of this weighed on his mind, Lance hasn't laid a hand on Keith since that time. They would kiss, and that would be it. One time Keith tried to make a move on his own because he noticed Lance’s avoidance. They were kissing, and everything seemed fine, until he unbuckled Lance’s pants. He was pushed away, and the moment was gone. It drowned underwater, along with his feelings.

“No—I...” Lance started, but didn’t know how to continue.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Keith said, as he left Lance’s house.

At the club, Lance, for once, wasn’t there to dance. He was there to talk to Keith, but he didn’t know what to say. He almost gave up when he saw Shiro talking to his neighbor, Allura. When they noticed him, they ran to him and Allura smacked him across his face. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked.

“What?”

“What’s wrong with Keith?” Shiro elaborated.

“Nothing’s wrong with him.”

Allura was about to hit him again when Shiro stopped her. “Then why do you act like you don’t want him?”

“I…I’m just afraid of him. And me. And why are you even interfering?”

Shiro stepped forward and grabbed Lance’s shoulders. “Tell him that. I don’t know what the hell you mean, but if you don’t say anything, he’ll be gone before you know it.”

“Um, where is he?” Lance asked.

“He didn’t come to work. He’s probably at home crying his eyes out,” Allura said.

Lance shook his head. “That guy doesn’t cry,” he said, though truthfully, he was only hoping that was the case.

 

It’s true that he wasn’t crying. Externally, at least. Inside, he was drowning in saltwater. He stared at the tie Lance gave him for the longest time, when it finally made him decide to go talk to Lance himself. When he reached Lance’s apartment, however, no one answered. Instead, there was another person standing at the door. He was a tall, built man smoking a cigarette. There was only one person Keith felt it could have been. The timing was impeccable.

“What do you want with Lance?” the man asked him.

“I have to talk to him,” Keith answered. “You?”

“The same. I’m here to ask him if he wants to get back together.”

“Why did you just tell me that?”

“I figured you’re here to do the same.”

“I’m not. And I don’t think he’ll say yes to you, either.”

The man shot Keith a threatening glance. “And why is that?”

 

Lance was running. He hasn’t ran so much since he first started dancing. He went to Keith’s but saw he wasn’t there, so he figured that the only other place was his apartment. He wasn’t running because he had a dark premonition, but because he wanted to reconcile with Keith as soon as possible. He wanted him. He wanted his lips, his nose, his nipples, his hips, his thighs; he wanted everything.

He wanted to hear him moan in his ear, to see the pleasure on his face and to feel him shudder beneath him.

Thoughts like these were why he was afraid of himself to begin with, but he hadn’t realized that Keith was the same way.

When he reached his apartment, it wasn’t only Keith. It was Keith and his ex-boyfriend, exchanging fists and drawing blood. It seemed to be more of a competition than anything, but for Keith, it was a release of his anger. He was angry with Lance’s ex because he let them give up on their relationship.

Lance immediately stood between them, and they stopped. He pulled Keith over to his side and pushed his ex-boyfriend away. “Go,” he said. “Coming here was useless. I’m sorry.”

“Lance, you don’t understand. I came here to—”

“What do you mean, I don’t understand? I perfectly get what’s going on”—he looked at Keith—“but it’s stupid.” He took his ex’s hand. “Go,” he repeated.

Slowly and reluctantly, he left, but only after saying one last thing to Keith: “I could tell while you hit me. You’re a good guy. Make him happy.”

Keith frowned. “He says ‘make him happy’ but he’s the one who won’t let me...” he mumbled.

“I heard that,” Lance said. “And what were you doing, fighting with him?”

“I couldn’t help it. He pissed me off.”

Lance sighed. “Keith, I—”

“No! I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that since your last gay relationship didn’t work out, why should this one? But that’s a mistake. It’s a mistake because—”

“That’s actually not what I was thinking at all. You suck at mind reading.”

“What? Then, why?”

“I mean, that’s part of it, but I was just afraid that you would get creeped out by me.”

“Creeped out? I mean, it’s not like that hasn’t happened before...but why would I, if I already told you how I feel?”

“I get that, but I just didn’t realize until that day when I picked you up that I really love you. And I didn’t want to screw it up.” Suddenly, Keith pinched Lance hard. “Ouch! What the hell, I declare my love for you and this is what I get?!”

“Quit dreaming, Lance! People screw things up! You’ll mess up, and I’ll mess up, but isn’t that why we need each other? Besides, I doubt you’re bad in bed. I mean, even if you are, I won’t be able to tell, because I have no one to compare you to. Okay? Will you stop whining?”

“ _Whining?_ What—” Keith interrupted him with a kiss. Lance gave up, and ran his fingers through Keith’s hair. He loved his hair; it was long and black and unruly just like his personality.

 

As they undressed, Lance tried to calm down his heart. Conversely, Keith, the inexperienced one, was hardly nervous at all. In fact, he seemed to have been anticipating this. Lance kissed around Keith’s bare neck, then kissed his nipples. He licked them, but when he looked up, Keith’s expression was that of terror. “W-what? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, you idiot. I just didn’t expect this...”

Lance took that as a cue to continue. When he felt Keith’s erection, he smirked, as he was considerably pleased with himself.

“If you’re thinking you’re hot shit, I’m walking away right now,” Keith uttered.

“I don’t think you can walk now, so just shut up and relax.” Lance pulled down Keith’s briefs, kissed his erection, and smirked again.

* * *

_(About four months later)_

Keith somehow made his way through the crowd. He had the best seat in the house; that spot, for him wasn’t near the orchestra pit, but instead in the balcony. He could see him the best that way, without the sound of the music overwhelming him. He’d made sure he gave him his flowers early, before the show, so as to relieve him of his nerves. He’d made sure to kiss him, too. He also promised that he was going to let him do to him whatever he wanted in bed to celebrate.

For Coran, getting this to happen was hell. Lance was reluctant and nervous, and he wasn’t sure he could even do it anymore. But here they were, and Keith has probably never been as happy as he was when the orchestra began, the curtains lifted and Lance was in the pose that stopped Keith’s heart before.

Lance sometimes made Keith feel like he was drowning in his own feelings. But that was okay, because it was always Lance who would pull him up.

Keith loudly and wildly clapped for Lance (even though he wasn’t really supposed to). “THERE’S MY BOYFRIEND!” he exclaimed.

Although he got looks of disapproval, he only laughed. He didn’t regret a thing.


End file.
